“Wrote yourself into a hole with that one, didn’t you, Mom.” The puppy speaks declaratively not speculatively and gives me The Look I have come to despise.
“I don’t have any idea what you mean.” Of course I know exactly what she means and I fear she may be obliquely correct.
“You scared her. That kind lady that writes so beautifully and that everybody loves. You took over her blog and that’s not nice. I don’t like you very much myself. Suppose she never writes again. She has dogs in Ireland, you know. Did you ever think about that, huh? I like to hear about her dogs. Maybe you took all that away. I just hate you sometimes. You’re a meanie. Meanie. Meanie.” The puppy is snuffling in despair, projecting her pain outwards in ever widening circles. I catch the angst as it ricochets in my direction. Am I guilty of being a butinsky?
“I didn’t intend to scare anybody into doing anything rash. I only wanted to help, to share information. To come to a conclusion that would be better for everyone.”
“Meanie. Meanie. Awful. Hateful.”
“Don’t you want dinner?”
“I could eat.”
Causes Mara Buck Supports
Kennebec Valley Humane Society, Amnesty International